


What I want from you

by emmahogany



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark, Disney AU, Happy Ending, M/M, Merlock, Pirate John, The Little Mermaid AU, mermaid sherlock, mermaids are evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2485760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmahogany/pseuds/emmahogany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the best. His deep baritone sounds lured every soul he wanted into the water. No one could resist him. Man, woman, child. They were doomed when he decided they were his. Doomed from the second he started his song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I want from you

**Author's Note:**

> Wel, this was a fic that wasn't supposed to happen... I'm currently busy with three other ones and suddenly my friend was there again, almost begging for a merlock and who am I to resist? (Dammit Sarah, I'm supposed to be studying... *Sigh*)
> 
> Doesn't take away that this was really fun to write. I hope you like it! Feel free to comment or point out mistakes! :)

No one ever had resisted his song.

He was the _best_. His deep baritone sounds lured every soul he wanted into the water. No one could resist him. Man, woman, child. They were doomed when he decided they were his. Doomed from the second he started his song.

His voice was lovely.

His voice was deathly.

There had be struggles before, but no one succeeded to actually _resist_ his song.

Until him.

* * *

Sherlock had always been facinated by pirates. No matter how often his brother the king, or queen Mycroft as Sherlock liked to call him, said it was dangerous. But he was an unsufferable git, annoyed by the fact Shelocks song was better then his.

You could say everyone had a type. Pirates were his type. Oh, he had lured many different kinds of persons. But pirates always gave him that extra little trill. They were that little more vigilant, that little more superstitious, that little more difficult to lure. It made the hunt more fun and him less bored.

The struggle made the satisfaction of victory sweeter.

* * *

The first time Sherlock saw _him_. He wasn’t even focussed on him.

His new prey was a rather handsome pirate captain. Silvergrey hair, tanned skin. He almost had him, ready to jump into the water, when a hand clamped arround the biceps of his prey.

Sherlock stopped singing. The spell broke.

‘Careful captain.’

The man shook is head, trying to focuss his mind, ‘John?’

‘You were almost gone,’ the man sounded worried, ‘mermaid waters, you need to be careful, Greg.’ the man, John, stared into the sea.

The man was handsome, Sherlock observed, blond hair, muscled, even more handsome than the captain.

‘You need to sleep, Greg. Doctors orders, come on.’

‘Always being the doctor, Watson,’ the captain chuckled and they both dissapeared from view.

Sherlock smiled. Oh this was going to be _fun_. It had been a rather long time he had a prey who could resist him.

* * *

It was supposed to be fun.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Sherlock was frustrated. Who was this man? This seemingly ordinary man who could resist the most beautiful voice of the whole ocean?

Every night, John was there. Alone. Like he was waiting for him.

Every night, Sherlock sang. The most seductive songs he knew.

And still, it didn’t work.

It had been a week. Seven nights. It was like the man was taunting him. He even listened. He listened to all his songs, he enjoyed it.

He just couldn’t lure him.

After the seventh failed attempt, Sherlock stopped with the normal methodes and observed. Like every night, John came to the bow of the ship and stared. He looked at the sea, sparkling under the light of the stars.

That night Sherlock didn’t sang.

The more time passed, the more confused John became. And when he returned to retire, he looked oddly disappointed.

Maybe John Watson wasn’t as unaffected as he let on.

* * *

It soon became an obsession. Sherlock decided that the man was his. Every night Sherlock visited him, most of the time he sang. Sometimes happy, other times sweet or powerful. John was very affected by the songs. There were times that he even cried.

The more nights that followed, the more intrigued and fascinated Sherlock became.

John Watson was… Unique.

He was a doctor on a pirate ship. The most loyal and kind man you could imagine. But also the one who was prepared to do the most. Sherlock witnessed a few encounters when an enemy hurt one of his own. He saw the determination in his eyes. His hand was steady when he placed a bullet right in the head of someone who treathened to kill his captain. His movements were focussed. He was deathly.

It made Sherlock want him even more.

* * *

He wasn’t sure when John started talking to him. It started as a few sentences here and there. But soon it were whole conversations.

And for the first time in his life Sherlock listened.

* * *

Of course, his absence didn’t went unnoticed.

‘He must be a special one.’ Moriarty mused, ‘to catch your attention for that long.’

His long black tail swayed through the water. It was sinister, sharp, and had a special kind of beauty.

‘Do you think I could lure him in, Sherlock? Do you think he can resist me too?’

Sherlock snarled.

‘He’s mine. Stay away.’

Moriarty grinned, eyes blinking with challenge accepted and started singing, and for a moment Sherlock was terrified. Terrified that John would listen to Moriarty, that he would jump.

John looked confused for a moment, and for a moment it seemed like he was in trance. He put one leg on the edge of the ship. But then he snorted.

‘You’re not him,’ he said smiling, ‘I don’t know who you are, but you’re not him. And let me tell you that he sang more beautiful then you did. It won’t work. You won’t have me.’

Moriarty looked surprised, Sherlock terribly smug.

* * *

That night Sherlock did some thinking.

Because he hadn’t been terrified that Moriarty was better then him.

No, he had been terrified that John would jump, that John would die.

He didn’t like to think about what that could mean.

* * *

Sherlock tried to stay away.

Tried.

He couldn’t.

* * *

The watch wasn’t really special. It wasn’t like it was made of gold or something.

It was Johns.

Sherlock studied it. Facinated by the tiny clockwork.

John lost it, a jealous hissy fight. And by the circumstances, the strap of the watch broke and it fell in sea.

Sherlock dove after it and now it was in his possesion. The strap was utterly distroyed, but the watch himself was of good quality.

* * *

Johns smile and disbelieving laugh when he saw his watch with new fishleather strap hanging on the bow of the ship was completly worth it.

The wispered thank you made his heart swell.

* * *

Little presents became big presents. The swelling of his heart and the fluttering of his stomach became addictive.

The songs became more personal. More real.

The game had changed.

* * *

When John Watson finally surrounded by the water of the open sea, it wasn’t by Sherlock.

The life of a pirate was dangerous. And no matter how good John was, he still fell.

Bloodlust was a strange thing. It was an urge, a need. Something that crawled under the skin. An itch that needed to be scratched. An instinct.

As soon as John hit the water, instict came over him. Every conversation, every smile, everything of John went forgotten.

Instinct stayed.

_Mine_.

For the first time in years, it had actually been years, Sherlock showed himself. Eyes dark, wanting. John looked at him. He smiled.

‘It’s you isn’t it.’

Sherlock gave him one slow nod.

‘Whats your name?’ He wispered. Voice raw.

‘Sherlock.’ He answered.

And then he took Johns gently in his arms and dove into the deep.

John didn’t struggle.

* * *

He looked at John, his body flowing before him. His eyes, once as bright as the sea, closed. His body silent.

‘You finally did it.’

Moriarty swam lazily towards him.

‘Congratulations.’

‘I don’t deserve it,’ said Sherlock, still looking at John, ‘He didn’t came to me. My voice couldn’t lure him. He was stronger than me, stronger than everyone,’ with a tender and careful gesture he cupped Johns cheek in his hand, ‘he won.’

‘Oh Sherlock.’ Moriarty smiled, a toothy smile, ‘never thought that you would be one of those.’

‘One of those?’

‘The ones who fall in love.’

Sherlock wanted to deny it, he desperatly wanted, but he couldn’t. Because somehow, John Watson pierced himself into his heart. Love was the best way to describe it.

‘There is a way you know, I could bring him back. Bring him back to life. Make him one of us.'

'One of the Merfolk?'

'Yes, oh it is difficult of course, and there are some risks. But I know the theory.'

It sounded too nonchalant. And dangerous. Bloodmagic was very tricky. To change the species? That took some enormous risks. But if there was someone who could do it, it was Moriarty. Sherlock was sure of it.

‘Can you do it.’

It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

‘Ah ah. Things always come with a price Sherlock.’

Sherlock closed his eyes.

‘What do you want?’

The toothy smile grew wider, ‘Can’t you guess?’

* * *

John was beautiful.

His tail was brown, it shone gold in the sunlight.

Mycroft was furious of course, _Sherlock what have you done?_  

But it had been worth it. John had been worth it.

John would never hear his voice again, no one would hear his voice again, but that was okay.

There wasn’t anything Sherlock wouldn’t do for John Watson.

 

 


End file.
